


Spike Doesn't Like Christmas - Or Does He?

by sorcererofsupremepizza



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererofsupremepizza/pseuds/sorcererofsupremepizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the Battle of the Hellmouth, Spike is actually alive - and is definitely not in the Christmas spirit, at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spike Doesn't Like Christmas - Or Does He?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is the first part of my Very Fandom Christmas 2k15! Enjoy
> 
> I do not own any of these characters. I merely manipulate them for my own enjoyment and to procrastinate before finals.  
> Also, this is my first time writing BtVS, so I apologize in advance.

“Buffy, come on love, bugger this nonsense.” William “Spike” Pratt said as one of the Scooby gang, or maybe it was one of the Slayers, decided to toss tinsel in his direction. As a result, the tinsel had practically wrapped itself around the vampire’s neck, and it elicited a laugh from the well-renowned Slayer, Buffy Summers. “I didn’t come back from the dead just to be forced into decorating for Christmas.”

Another laugh escaped Buffy’s lips, but it was short-lived. “You didn’t come back from the dead. You’re just less… undead.”

Spike glared at her, the impact stronger than Buffy impaling one of his old mates with Mr. Pointy. The vamp stood there, trying to be ominous, but the tinsel boa around his neck wasn’t helping matters.

Yet, he hadn’t removed it.

“Come on Spike, it’s the holiday season.” Buffy said. “All the usual trimmings have to happen – the tree, the lights. Ooh, can’t forget the peppermint schnapps.”

Spike perked up at the last mention. “Well… I suppose. I better be getting something else out of this ordeal too, Buffy.”

“Spike, can we not discuss this n-” Summers was cut off as someone else cut in.

“Oho, Captain Peroxide is a Grinch! Who could have predicted that? Oh wait, I did.” Xander Harris practically shouted as he blundered into the room. His eye-patch was askew, and his hair was a mess. Plus, it looked like someone had spilled something down his front. It was most likely himself.

Spike grumbled something under his breath, but he took the tinsel from his shoulders and very carefully lay it across the brambles of the machinated evergreen in the corner of Buffy’s sitting room. For some reason, doing such domestic things felt… odd. Of course, he was a two hundred year-old vamp with the killing of two Slayers under his belt.

* * *

 

  
But that was the old Spike. He got his soul back just to prove he’d changed for Buffy, and then he’d went and gotten killed. But then, something weird happened with the champion amulet he’d worn in the Battle of the Hellmouth, and he’d somehow showed up on old Angel’s doorstep. Rather than deal with his mate’s rambling on about whatever-the-hell, he nicked a bike and then raced back to Sunnydale.

He didn’t bother stopping anywhere else – he’d just gone straight to her house. He pulled to a slow stop near the pavement, and at the time no one was home. Spike peered up at the house, wondering just what the hell he was doing.

“The Big Bad would never have done this, you know,” He said to himself as he sat there. Spike leaned back on the seat, crossing his arms. The leather of Wood’s old jacket squeaked as it creased, part of the noise due to the moisture that had seeped into it from the late evening mist. “Then again, when you were bad, you didn’t really love Buffy did you.”

Spike flicked a cigarette to his lips, lighting it and taking a deep drag. With a long sigh, he exhaled his first puff, the smoke mingling with the mist around him. “Oh, to hell with it.” He got off the bike, making sure he’d lowered the kickstand first, and strode toward the house. He fished around his pocket, not knowing what he was looking for – it wasn’t like he had a key. Buffy might have trusted him by the end, but certainly not with a key.

No matter, no matter. Spike had never found a place that proved impregnable. Well, except for Buffy’s heart. But he’d even managed to worm his way into there too, somehow.   
At least he thought he did. There was something between them. Sure, Buffy had used him for sex when she’d come back from Heaven, but there was still something more there. She confided in him, stood up for him when everyone else wanted him dead. Hell, Giles and Wood had tried to collaborate and end him entirely.   
Ha, you couldn’t take down the Big Bad so easily, could you?

* * *

 

  
“Spike! Hello? Are you going to help with the tree or are you just going to stand there gawking into space?” Dawn Summers asked, waving a hand in front of the vampire-statue’s face.

The bleach blond vamp glanced up, shaking his head to clear away the retrospective thoughts. “Huh? Oh, yeah, little bit. Sure. Hand me that box.”  
Might as well be a part of it, Spike. Plus, Buffy might be grateful.

Spike would never admit that being a part of the strange family wasn’t so bad after all. He never really cared about the holidays, but he did feel something different this year.   
Dawn insisted on topping the Christmas tree. Even as a high schooler, the Summers’ tree was much too high for the younger girl. Looking at it as a further way to help, Spike offered to do it for her. God, did he get an earful for that.

Instead, Spike, much to Dawn’s protest, grabbed her up and set her on his shoulder so she could top the tree.   
That was when Buffy walked into the room. She noticed the scene and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.   
“Well what do you know. The Big Bad isn’t such a Grinch after all.”

Spike made sure that Dawn was safely on the ground before he retorted to his… well, he wasn’t quite sure what he and Buffy were at this point.   
See, she hadn’t taken it well when he’d come back.

* * *

 

Spike was lying on her bed when she got back. He’d just been thumbing through a nearby book – Buffy’s journal – when Buffy had walked into the room.   
He remembered her throwing the bags from shopping onto the floor.

The keys falling from her grip.

Buffy struggling to remain on her feet as her knees gave out beneath her.

There was no mistaking it was him or anything – when you love someone as much as Buffy actually loved Spike, you just knew when it was the real thing.

Besides, the punch that she threw at his face sent him sprawling across the room – that was more than reassurance that William the Bloody was in her bed.

Reading her journal.

“You’re a pig, Spike.” Was the first thing Buffy said to him.

It was music to the vampire’s ears. He smirked at her and got to his feet, standing just a yard away from her. “No thank you for burning alive? No thank you for the sacrifice? Just the usual insult and dodging the important things. Good to know you haven’t changed, pet.”

The punch might have stung the vamp’s face – he’d always been amazed by her strength, really – but when she rushed forward and her lips ended up on his, her arms around his neck, well, that was something to curb the pain entirely. And some kiss it was.

Sure, they might have destroyed an entire building with their intense love-making a couple years back, but nothing compared to how this kiss felt.   
However, as soon as it was done, Buffy was tearing his ear off about how he’d left them constantly wondering. Of course, he’d done the right thing. 

He didn’t even expect the thank you.

In a way, he’d gotten one. But he’d gotten so much more with it.

* * *

 

That was a few weeks ago.

This was now.

Everything seemed so different. Maybe it was the holidays. Maybe it was them. They’d both died several times now, so what was the big deal?

“Never said I was, love.” His soft British accent seemed louder now that they were the only two people in the room. Dawn had stormed off to try to reclaim her dignity and most likely try to convince Xander to share the peppermint-flavored liquor. Of course he wouldn’t do that, though.

“Says the man who plays the hardass cool kid all the time.” Buffy smirked at him, peering up at him from beneath her lashes. Spike had to suppress a retort as he slowly strode across the room to stand right in front of her.

“You know, Slayer, I still wonder why I hang around here.”

“Don’t we all, Spike?” Buffy challenged. If Spike was fazed by her words, he didn’t show it. Two centuries of being alive did that – he knew how to hide his emotions.

“But there are other times when I just… know…” Spike trailed off, reaching out and gently tucking her hair behind her ear. Buffy tensed, her entire body rigid.

“Spike…”

The vampire stopped admiring her and leaned against the wall beside her. Buffy’s eyes stayed on his the whole time. “Yeah, pet?”

“We should talk about our last moments together in that Battle. I said some things…”

“Buffy, you didn’t mean it. Honestly, it’s fine. Thanks for saying it.”

The Slayer, none too gently, slapped him in the face. Spike recoiled, hissing. “Ow, what the f-

“Don’t make assumptions, Spike. You have no idea if I meant it or not. Since you won’t believe my words, maybe this will change your mind, you moron.”

And then Buffy was kissing him again. His hands wound up in her hair, her hands were wrapped around his body. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he was just being used for sex. For his strength as a vampire.

For the first time in a long, long time, William felt loved.

* * *

 

  
Later…

* * *

 

Spike and Buffy entered the kitchen, hand-in-hand, only to find that the rest of the gang were busy making Christmas cookies. Luckily, none of them took notice of their disheveled clothing and unkempt hair, particularly Spike, who was sporting some major bed head. Plus, all of his clothes save for his jeans and black t-shirt were still strewn across the floor of Buffy’s room.

Willow noticed them enter the room, and she immediately knew what was going on.

Or maybe she already knew.

“Hey there, you two. I just finished baking a batch. Want to give us a hand with the frosting?”

Spike looked down at Buffy and smiled, the expression full of an affection the vampire had never felt before. “What do you say, love, want to help with the frosting?”

Buffy smirked at him and let go of his hand, striding to the counter and grabbing up several of the colors. Spike moved to stand next to her, and that’s when Xander decided to cut in again.

“You do realize we could hear you over the Christmas songs, right?” Harris gestured to the nearby radio, which was softly belting “Silver Bells.”

The blushing on the now-couple’s faces was redder than the Christmas decorations in the room. They exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything to one another. Instead, they just kept on with the cookie decorating.

Since Buffy and Spike had come in later after their afternoon activities, everyone else had left them to their own devices in the kitchen.

“Hey, Buffy,” Spike said to get her attention. Buffy was busy decorating a Christmas tree cookie, but she looked up.

Only to get a shmear of blue frosting on the end of her nose. Spike chuckled after the fact. So did Buffy.

“Yep. Totally the Big Bad there, Spike.” She scooped up a large portion of green frosting on her finger and gently slapped his cheek, smudging the icing on his face. 

“Alright, now this is just silly.” Spike growled at her and retaliated.

"You bloody started it, Spike!" Buffy smirked, ducking away before he could attack again. 

* * *

 

The rest of the Scooby gang had come into the room to check out their progress, and to grab some treats to eat while watching a film, only to come back to complete chaos.

  
Spike was on one side of the counter, a bowl of freshly-made batter in his arm and one rubber spatula in his hand. Buffy was on the other side, wielding balls of dough and frosting, preparing to retaliate.

They decided to just leave the room and let it happen.

Tis the season, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
